


Fragment

by Solziv



Series: Art Trades, Collabs, Gifts & Requests [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arkham Asylum, Batman/Joker fight, Batman: The Killing Joke, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Burton Joker inspiration, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Madness, Memories, Rain, Repressed Memories, Rogues Gallery, Secrets, Tim Burton inspired, Villains, Violence, Wayne Tower, charity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solziv/pseuds/Solziv
Summary: Batman and the Joker have performed their violent dance for so long…but what is that niggling feeling in the back of the Dark Knight's mind during this particular fight? One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/gifts).



> This is a weird AU idea that I came up with during a discussion with melody1987, which then became part of an art trade with them. In terms of looks and inspiration, I mostly took from _The Killing Joke_ , but it’s not set in any particular universe.

This elaborate dance had been performed a thousand times – the Joker’s verbal barbs and knife play, equally met by Batman’s rumbled warning and Kevlar-clad fists.

On this particular night, the chosen arena for their violent ballet was the roof of Wayne Tower, which stood as the tallest building in Gotham City. The weather imitated the general mood of the somewhat dystopian burg.

If it weren’t for the skyscraper’s lights illuminating the area, the pair would not have been able to aim their hits through the heavy rain, which clouded their vision. The weather was more of a hindrance for the Dark Knight than the Joker, as the latter thoroughly enjoyed chaos in all its facets.

As the clown darted to avoid a hefty blow, a shaft of light cut across his countenance. In that moment, Bruce felt the strength leave his thrown punch, mentally distracted by a sudden image flickering through his mind. Something about that one picture felt off, although he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Their duel picked up again and questions continued rolling around Batman’s head in a Mobius loop. It allowed the Joker to get in several well-timed stabs of the knife or shots with the fist. All the former could think was _Thank God for armour_ , but he had to be more careful from now on, considering his attention was halved.

This was not the time or place to consider what the niggling feeling at the back of his psyche meant – not that he could even begin to comprehend its connotations – but there was one thing he _did_ know.

It was a fragment of his past.

_A thin male staggered through the entrance of the hospital, clutching his midriff. Dark red had seeped through and stained his dress shirt and jacket, displaying to everyone the story of a gunfight gone wrong._

_The receptionist in the waiting room jumped to her feet, apprehension mingled with concern, and she quickly trotted around the desk to attend to him. She was about to call for aid, when none other than Thomas Wayne ambled into the area. His pale blue gaze fell upon the injured figure, and his philanthropic nature instantly emerged. Calling clear commands to the woman, Wayne approached the man in need._

The Dark Knight gripped the wrist of his nemesis and twisted, so the latter dropped the knife stained with red. The weapon fell to the drenched roof with a metallic clatter and small drops of blood rinsed away in the pounding rain that refused to let up.

The Joker retaliated with his signature flower in the button hole of his violet coat. He aimed well, a thin stream of acid catching Batman in the upper left arm. It began melting the Kevlar; Bruce grimaced and hurriedly removed the piece of armour, before it did any more damage. That particular acrid liquid had the _lovely_ habit of eating through almost any material – something learnt the hard way, back in the first few encounters with the dangerous clown.

_“Don’t move,” came Thomas’ voice overhead. He leant over and peered downwards, into the impossibly green eyes of his patient. The injured figure was stretched across an operating table, ready to be put under anaesthetic._

_There had been a number of questions regarding the bullet wound, but no chance at present of gaining information from the victim. When this procedure was over and he recovered enough to speak, Gotham’s police force would be contacted and begin asking questions._

_The chance of helping the patient make it through this and catching the culprits further motivated Wayne to ensure he saved another life._

_A mask was placed over the injured man’s mouth and gas slowly fed through the tube._

_“Count back from ten,” the anaesthetist said softly._

_The male struggled at first, but finally relented and began counting. The fear of death faded with each number, his mind muddying._

_All too soon, he fell under._

The clown turned on his heel and rushed along the drenched roof. Unwilling to allow the villain to escape, Batman furiously threw down his ruined armour and took after the former.

Even with the specialised treads to his boots, the Dark Knight’s steps felt slippery – one false move, and over the side he would go. Not a particularly nice way to end his vigilante career.

It took a final push, lungs already burning, for him to catch up with the Joker, and their dance continued.

_Clad in a black, tailored Armani suit, which must have cost several thousand dollars – mere chicken feed to the playboy billionaire – Bruce stared across at the tall, thin male who appeared, by contrast, to have fallen out the door of a soup kitchen._

_They were polar opposites, both socially and economically, who found themselves in the perhaps unenviable position of a conversation. But Wayne had an offer, something the down-and-out would not be able to resist._

_Or so he had thought._

_“Take it. It’ll help.” Bruce’s tenor brooked no argument, but still the thin male shook his head, particularly nervous about their meeting. The latter’s hands quivered, as he swept his sweating brow._

_“No. No more…” came the reply. “I’ve taken too much already…”_

_The playboy huffed, annoyed more with himself than the frightened man stood opposite. Thomas was responsible for this situation, having assisted the thin figure last time, and obviously hoped to continue such charity. It had been assumed a certainty that the latter would agree to protection._

_Until Alfred had explained, years after the murder of Thomas and Martha, Bruce struggled to understand the connection between his father and the frail, frightened man before him. For years, the billionaire wondered why someone of such high society would help an apparent lowlife._

_Now, it made sense._

_Saving a life was worth its weight in gold, and there was no reason to not continue such charity. That was what Thomas had taught, instilling that morality in his son._

_Yet the thin male continued shaking his head, refusing to be convinced. Bruce’s heart faltered a little; he could not force anyone to accept a gift._

The Dark Knight swung a punch across the Joker’s countenance, striking with much more force than necessary, to ensure the latter went down. Teeth and blood flew from the madman’s mouth and he staggered backwards. Losing his footing, the clown slipped, hitting the back of his head on a protruding structure atop the roof.

The Joker blacked out and slumped to the ground.

Success, but at a cost. The niggling sensation in the vigilante’s head remained, with no answers. Time was needed to truly think it over, distraction-free.

First, however, the clown needed to be returned to his cell at Arkham Asylum. He was picked up, as if a mere ragdoll. Batman pulled out his grapnel and aimed, then fired. It hit its mark, and he allowed the tense cord to pull him away from Wayne Tower.


End file.
